


[MOTN] Marienbrücke

by amandaterasu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Blood Drinking, Blood Sharing, Blood and Gore, F/M, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22357903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu
Summary: An off-shoot of Music of the Night that details how Sidurgu and Sumire met.
Relationships: Sidurgu Orl/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15
Collections: Music of the Night - Core fic and side stories





	[MOTN] Marienbrücke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saltedearthsch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedearthsch/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Music of the Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109850) by [amandaterasu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu). 



“Veilchen!” the voice called from the village. _”Veilchen!”_

Veilchen opened her eyes and glanced up at the cloudless sky. It was midafternoon, and she’d done her chores for the day. She was _supposed_ to have the rest of the afternoon to herself.

Not that it ever mattered.

With a sigh she clambered to her feet and walked across the meadow, pausing to affectionately rub one of Papa’s cows between the ears. It snuffled appreciatively and went back to nibbling grass as she walked away. A quick hop over the wooden fence, and she straightened her kirtle and kerchief before strolling across the lane to the village proper.

“Veilchen! There you are,” her father said as she turned the corner around their barn. “Hyazinthe has gone into town, and I need this butter for tomorrow’s market. Churn it while I finish sealing the milk.”

She didn’t argue, not anymore. What would be the point? Her father would always say the same thing: Hyazinthe is beautiful. She has a real chance of getting out of this village. You’re her older sister and should support her.

Never mind the fact that they were identical twins. Never mind the fact that if Hyazinthe had been forced to do chores as she had, maybe her hands would be too calloused for the noblemen that flocked around Prince Ludwig. Never mind that Veilchen was only older by two minutes - those two minutes meant she was going to spend the next two hours churning butter while Hyazinthe frittered the money away on something jeweled to go with her dress for the ball tomorrow night. The dress that cost more than all of Veilchen’s dresses combined. For a ball that Veilchen wouldn’t be allowed to attend. After all, a responsible girl should tend the cattle.

The sun was sinking behind the Alps that surrounded their valley when Hyazinthe breezed into the kitchen. Her sister took no notice of her, showing Papa the brooch she’d selected, “To draw the eye,” she said knowingly. 

“How much was it?” Veilchen asked, and couldn’t keep the edge of bitterness out of her voice.

Hyazinthe rolled her eyes. “More than that butter you seem so interested in.”

“Maybe it should have interested _you,”_ Veilchen snapped. “As it was _your_ chore and should have been done before you went to Füssen.”

“Papa, do you hear how she’s talking to me?” Hyazinthe said, her eyes already filling with fake tears. “She acts like she’s in charge here.”

“Now, Veilchen,” her father began, already taking Hyazinthe’s side. “Your sister is young, and -”

“If she is young,” Veilchen argued, “then so am I.”

“But you’re _responsible,”_ he said, placatingly. “Your sister was not gifted with your dutiful heart. So we must see she is taken care of.”

Veilchen tightened the cheesecloth around the last block of butter. “I see now the reward for my dutiful nature. No suitors, no comforts, just getting to watch someone who is not dutiful have fun.”

Her sister folded her arms. “Fun? You think flirting is _fun?”_

“How would I know?” Veilchen argued. “I’m too busy doing _your chores_ to ever get the chance!” She felt strange as she dove into the futile argument this time. Maybe it was the money. Maybe it was the chores. Maybe it was that this was the last ball of winter, and she would be twenty by the next full moon, and had never even been kissed yet.

“How ungrateful you are,” Hyazinthe said. “I’m going to marry! To be sent away from home, and Papa, and you! All this energy now is an investment in our futures! I’ll marry well and send money back to pay for things.”

“Yes,” Veilchen snarled. “And in ten years you’ll frown at us and call it _charity.”_

“I don’t have to stand here and listen to this!” Hyazinthe shouted. “I’m going to bed. I must get my rest for the ball that _I_ was invited to.” She stormed off, and Veilchen fumed silently, fighting the urge to grab her braid and pull her sister to the ground for a savage beating.

Once she was gone the anger faded, and her father was beside her making vague tuttering noises. “Veilchen… you shouldn’t be so hard on her…” he said. “She has your mother’s delicate spirit. Why don’t you go bring the cattle to the barn and pray for patience?”

 _Of course,_ Veilchen thought. _Another chore._

It was well and truly dark when Veilchen had the last of the cattle tucked into the barn, their stalls cleaned with blankets to prevent the near-winter chill from stealing into their bones. The rest of her family was asleep, and she climbed the steps in their small home and pushed open her bedroom door.

Her hands flew to her mouth, the only way to silence the shriek she’d have given otherwise. Someone - _probably Hyazinthe,_ she thought - had been in her room. All her clothes - kirtles and aprons and kerchiefs and shifts and petticoats and socks - were piled on the floor and smeared with spoiled milk. She’d have to wash it all, and before morning. 

Veilchen wanted to cry - to scream - to find some way to work out her frustrations. With a heavy sigh she dutifully packed the soiled clothes into a basket, and gathered the soap. Normally she’d wash them in hot water, but the cold of winter water would keep the smell from setting in. It wasn’t that far to the small lake her village, Schwangau, was named for.

As she slipped back out of her room, basket in hand, she noticed Hyazinthe’s door was open, and crept closer. Their rooms were so different, just another example of how _responsible_ and _dutiful_ she was supposed to be. In her most secret heart, Veilchen hated it. 

Her bedroom had plain white walls with a wooden cross and a sketch of the Blessed Virgin she’d been given by the local priest at her confirmation. But Hyazinthe, of course, had a painting of sunflowers one suitor had given her. A statue of Aphrodite, given by another. Her room was filled with gifts from men - including their father. The only gift he had ever given Veilchen was a pair of pearl earrings that had belonged to their mother. And now those, too, were in Hyazinthe’s room - after she’d insisted three years ago they were the _only_ thing that would work with a gown she was wearing to some other ball that was definitely going to win her a husband.

The thought of those earrings filled Veilchen with some secret fire, and she strode across the room to her sister’s vanity while she slept in the bed nearby, opening the jewelry box to take them out. She sat down, and looked at her own reflection, exhausted and bitter, as she put the earrings in her ears. She and Hyazinthe were identical. She was beautiful, too. Why didn’t anyone ever see it?

A jealous rage overtook her, and she decided she would have some petty vengeance. Hyazinthe slept like the dead while Veilchen picked up the newest ballgown from where it was draped over a trunk, and changed into it. When she looked again into the mirror, and saw how much alike she and her sister were, she wept. She hated her Papa for making her be the one to do all the chores. She hated Hyazinthe for having everything. And she hated herself for letting it happen. She knew what she was going to do. 

Veilchen was going to destroy the dress.

Grabbing her own clothes off the floor and adding them to the basket, she lifted it and carried it down the stairs, ignoring the way the cold wind chilled her shoulders and neck almost instantly as she stepped outside. She was too warm, too heated by her anger, and she stormed across the yard to the lane, then across the meadow to the shores of the lake.

“You’re going to ruin that gown,” a man’s voice called, and she stopped, turning this way and that, but she didn’t see anyone. “It’d be a shame, considering how beautiful it is.”

“Who’s there?” she said. 

After a few minutes of silence, she crossed herself and set her basket beside one of the large stones on the shore of the lake. 

The voice came again, this time soft, right behind her. “Doing chores in a party dress?”

She turned to find a strange man she’d never seen before, with pale white skin and pale white hair, in a black travelling suit. Despite his coloration, she could tell he was not from Bavaria by the soft accent that backed his words, a curl of something forbidden just beneath the skin.

“What business is it of yours?” She asked, taking a step back.

He did not move from where he leaned against the rock, watching her in fascination. “I just think it a shame that you would ruin something so obviously given in love.” Something ticked in the side of his jaw. “What is his name, the man who bought you that dress?”

“My father bought it,” she said. Her heart was racing from the way he stared at her - his eyes were the same painful blue as the lake’s ice in winter, when the sun hit it in midafternoon. 

He nodded. “And the earrings?”

“M-my mother’s.”

He glanced down at her hands. “No rings, and calluses. You do your own chores.” He said nothing for two beats of her heart, then, “Do you have a husband? A fiance? A paramour?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Just my father and my sister.”

He relaxed visibly and began walking toward her. “Good. That makes this easy. What is your name?”

“V-Veilchen,” she whispered. Why was he staring at her like that? What was he thinking?

“Veilchen,” he repeated. “Violets do not grow in my homeland. No wonder I had to travel so far.”

“Where is your homeland?”

“The Khangai Mountains, far to the east of here.” The name meant nothing to her, and it must have shown on her face because he laughed. “Mongolia, just north of China. And though you have not asked, my name is Sidurgu, of the Orl tribe. But your Prince Ludwig and King Maximilian call me Lord Orl.”

Sidurgu stopped walking, and she realized he was close enough to touch and looming over her. 

“How lucky for you, to know so many powerful people,” she mumbled.

He smiled, and something in it thrilled her heart. “Indeed. It brought me here to find _you.”_

“You weren’t looking for me,” she whispered.

“I was, even if you don’t believe me.” His hands were on her shoulders, and he leaned toward her. 

Before she could cry out or protest his lips, cold as ice and hard as the mountains, caught her lips and pushed them open, and his cold tongue slipped between her teeth. Kissing him was like kissing winter itself, and she didn’t realize how much she was enjoying it until he pulled away, his frozen eyes darting around her face hungrily.

“I don’t want to ruin your pretty dress,” he whispered. “There’s a ball tomorrow night. Will you attend?” 

Her brain was still trying to put the pieces together. “I… I wasn’t invited.” 

Sidurgu reached into his jacket and pulled out a cream envelope. “You are now,” He pressed it into her hands and she looked down at it. She was suddenly dizzy, so dizzy, and she just wanted to sleep, and -

He pulled his lips from her neck, licking something vital and red off of them as he stared at her. “You’re shaking.”

“Am I?” she whispered.

He said something in a language she didn’t know, then switched back to German. “You’re freezing.”

“I am?” Veilchen realized she must be dreaming. This strange man, this Sidurgu, had kissed her. He had kissed her neck. She was…

“You are. You’re about to lose consciousness. Which house is yours, little Sumire?”

“Barn,” she murmured. He was right, she was fainting. “Cows.” Then her eyes fluttered shut.

“My _DRESS!”_ Hyazinthe’s shriek echoed through the small chamber, and Veilchen’s eyes snapped open to see her sister standing in the door to her bedroom, pointing angrily at her ball gown - still perfect and pristine - hanging from the side of Veilchen’s armoire. “You stole my dress!”

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. _Quick,_ she thought to herself, _an excuse._ “It had spoiled milk on it,” she said. “So I took it out to wash.”

Veilchen watched Hyazinthe for her reaction, and was delighted to see her sister try to fume her way out of that one. With a frustrated shriek, the younger twin took the gown and stormed back to her room. Veilchen flopped back on her pillow, trying to remember what had happened the night before. She’d dreamed of the foreign man, Sidurgu, by the lake, and he…

Her hand slipped under her pillow as she sat up, and she felt the edge of an envelope. Tugging it out, her eyes widened to see the invitation he’d given her the night before, along with a note.

_Sumire,_

_Please permit me to call you that. We do not have your violets in my homeland, but I spent much of my youth attempting war against the islanders to the far east. They have the blooms, and that is what they call them - so it shall be my secret name for you._

_I’m sorry I kept you out so late, but I don’t think I woke any of your family when I snuck you in. I finished your laundry, do be careful with that dress, it looks lovely on you._

_I will be late for this evening’s ball - I generally keep to myself until sunset, but once night has fallen I will see you there._

_Then I will convince you to run away with me._

_Sidurgu_

Her hands trembled on the paper, and she tucked it back under her pillow.

“Veilchen,” her father said, sticking his head in the room. “The cows are fussing up a storm. You need to milk them and take them to the meadow.”

She looked up at her father. It wouldn’t be difficult at all for Sidurgu to convince her to run away - anything is better than this. She rolled her eyes and flopped back onto the bed. “Make Hyazinthe do it.”

“Your sister has the ball tonight, Veilchen. She needs her rest.”

She reached for the invitation again and clutched its corner between her fingers. “So do I.”

* * *

Sidurgu paced the chamber he’d been assigned, waiting for the sun to set at last. Her name, her taste, her golden hair, her caramel eyes, all of them were his. He would have claimed her and turned her last night if only she hadn’t been freezing so. His Veilchen, his Violet, his Sumire. He thought of delicate petals and her lips. He thought of sweet wine and her blood. He thought of the anger, the power it seemed to give her as it coursed through her fragile body, and his hands burned at the need to catch that quicksilver in his hands again.

If he had found her in life, he would have gotten a dozen sons on her in hopes one would have that same fire in his veins, a warrior to carve the name of the Orl across history. But that was nearly a thousand years and another life besides. Instead he would dance with her tonight, then take her back to this room and give her the power to give voice to her anger. 

He paused for a moment, and allowed that giddy thrill of victory to climb through his chest. His _Nhaama._ He had waited so long, and at last - at last - he had found her.

The moment he felt the danger of the sunlight pass, he opened the door to his rooms and made his way to the steps. The gala was already in full swing, with King Maximilian seated with a few of his advisors, and Prince Ludwig standing in the corner sharing drinks with that composer friend of his, Wagner. Sidurgu made a mental note to introduce the man to Magnai’s sire at some point. They’d get along. 

He hesitated at the top of the stairs until he heard the man announce “Lord Sidurgu Orl,” then he made his way down, letting his eyes sweep the crowd until he found her. Pile of golden hair and that same silver gown. She turned at the sound of his name and must have caught him looking because she smiled. He returned it, and quickly made his way to her side at the champagne table.

“Good evening, my dear,” he said, coming up beside her. “I trust you slept well?”

She blinked quizzically at him. “Yes… why do you ask?”

He smiled. “I was worried after your little adventure last night. I’m glad to see you here regardless.”

“Adventure? Is that what you call it?” she said, and he could tell something was wrong. Things didn’t feel right. Maybe his letter had upset her?

“Please,” he said, taking one of her hands. “Veilchen. If I offended you by my request, I beg your forgiveness.”

“Veilchen,” she repeated, and her eyes widened in shock as she looked him up and down. “It’s _you!”_

“Yes, it is,” he laughed. “Sidurgu, from last night? Oh, Azim take me, you don’t remember any of it with how cold you were.” The recognition did nothing to allay _his_ sense of unease, but she seemed more relaxed, giving him a catlike smirk. Sidurgu considered that a success on its own. 

“Could you remind me what happened? My memory is so fuzzy,” she giggled and swayed on her feet, batting her eyelashes. Last night Veilchen hadn’t seemed such a flirt, but she _was_ standing by the champagne table. 

“Well,” he said, “we chatted for a few moments.” He reached his arm around her shoulder and her eyebrows shot up. “Then I scolded you for trying to do laundry in a ball gown, then I kissed you - and, if I’m not mistaken,” he leaned close now, purring in her ear, “you kissed me back.” He straightened. “Then I gave you your invitation and here you are!”

“My invitation…” she murmured. “And what’s your plan for tonight, Lord Sidurgu? Why did you invite me?”

“Didn’t you get my note?” He laughed. Something flickered in her eyes, and his sense of unease grew. Something was _wrong._ She seemed on edge, and didn’t _feel_ right. She didn’t echo back at him like she had the night before. He chalked it up to her unease. If he could just get her to relax, get her to trust him as easily as she had the night before, she would tell him and he would fix it and all would be well. “The one where I requested you allow me to call you Sumire? The one where I asked you to run away with me?”

“Run away with you? And what then?” She scoffed. “I’m not so easy to bed as all _that._ I have a family to care for. It’s my duty.” 

“Then marry me,” he said, pulling her closer, “marry me and I will see your family cared for. They’ll want for nothing. But I must have you come away with me tonight or -”

Her eyes glanced above his shoulder and suddenly widened like saucers. “Dance with me,” she said abruptly, and clutched his hand. 

As he stumbled after her, the tension of his unease snapped, and clarity came over him. “No calluses,” he whispered, and horror filled him. “You’re not -”

“Veilchen of Schwangau!” the steward announced, and Sidurgu’s head whipped back toward the sweeping stairs to see his Veilchen, his _Sumire,_ standing at their top. Their eyes met for only an instant. Then his view was blocked as the other girl, his Nhaama’s doppelganger, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

* * *

Veilchen felt like the whole night had been spun of sugar glass.

She had relented on the chores, helping her father until the moment Hyazinthe left.

“Papa,” she said quietly, “I need to go get ready now.”

“But the cattle…” he whined. “Veilchen, I need you here.”

“And you have had me here for twenty years,” she said. “It’s time I did something for myself.”

So she had, raiding her sister’s trunk while he tutted in the hallway, selecting one of her old gowns in green, raiding her jewelry chest until she found something lovely - a gold comb with enamel violets, the flower for which Veilchen was named - worked into the shaft.

The whole time her father tutted outside Hyazinthe’s room, his ineffectual arguments falling on deaf ears. She wasn’t Veilchen anymore. She was Sidurgu’s Sumire, and she would walk out of this life and find happiness in the outside world, because this valley held none for her.

The walk to Hohenschwangau Castle was chilly, but she pulled her cloak over her shoulders and buried her hands into the gold slippers she’d stolen from Hyazinthe’s closet. She’d leave her boots outside the castle’s gate when she arrived.

The castle seemed to glow from within as she approached, bright braziers chasing away the unseasonable chill and oppressive darkness. There were no stars tonight, and she heard whispers that there was likely to be a blizzard soon. She changed her slippers. None of that was her concern. God Willing, this time tomorrow she would be out of the valley, and wherever this Sidurgu took her, even if it was to an early grave. Anything was better than this.

One of the guards knew her from church, and was surprised when she showed him the invitation she’d received, though he seemed quite pleased she was attending. “Good,” he said, “If anyone can make Hyazinthe behave, it will be you.”

“What do you mean?” Veilchen asked, suddenly leery. She didn’t want to see Hyazinthe. She didn’t want to talk about Hyazinthe. 

“Oh, you know how she is - a little bit of champagne and she turns cruel.” He laughed.

“Really? She’s not just cruel all the time?”

The guard chuckled again. “Maybe she’s always drunk.” He pointed Veilchen to a servant, who took the invitation and asked for her name. He led her up the stairs, and glanced at her a few times. “Didn’t the Steward already introduce you?”

She shook her head. “That was my sister, Hyazinthe.”

Then she was rushing up the stairs, the servant beside her whispered to another, and suddenly his voice rang out, “Veilchen of Schwangau.” She burst onto the platform at the top of the stairs and looked out across the ballroom. Her eyes naturally fell to Sidurgu, tall and pale with a shock of white hair. His eyes met hers and she saw fear and he was -

In Hyazinthe’s arms. Kissing Hyazinthe. 

Veilchen decided something heavy from the clouds outside must have seeped too far into her bones, because a chill swept through her, settling in her heart. Without a word she walked down the stairs to the ballroom floor, grabbing a pickle off the hors d'oeuvres table and walking to the large window that overlooked the ballroom.

She could hear his steps approaching on the marble floor, and she pointedly turned to face him, taking a bite out of it. Veilchen realized her manners must be awful, the way he winced as she ground the bite between her molars.

“Veilchen,” he began, “please, let me-”

“He said he was going to marry me,” Hyazinthe sneered. 

“I’m sure he did,” she said flatly.

“- explain,” Sidurgu glanced back and forth between them, and a guard approached. Both he and Sidurgu winced as Veilchen took another bite. 

“Is there some disturbance?” the guardsman asked, glancing between the twins.

Sidurgu interposed himself between them. “The ladies have had a bit too much to drink, and I would appreciate it if you could show me a drawing room where they can lie down and not _disturb the other guests.”_

They were quickly ushered into a small antechamber, and Veilchen felt Sidurgu press up against her back, something hard tapping her shoulder blade as he did so. “Please,” he whispered into her ear, his chill breath stirring her skin. “Trust me, Sumire.”

Hyazinthe was shouting the moment the guard shut the door behind them, and Sidurgu took a few steps away to the corner of the room. Veilchen couldn’t help but glance at him, and she saw the flash of silver in his jacket and laughed sardonically.

Completely ignoring her twin’s ranting, she wheeled on Sidurgu. “Is that the dagger you were planning to murder me with, later?” she asked.

“No, it’s just a dagger. A man should never go unarmed,” he scoffed. “When I kill you, it will not be with a little knife.”

Veilchen nodded, recognizing the honesty of his answer, and walked closer to him. Hyazinthe grabbed her arm, but she shrugged her off easily and looked up into his face. “What will you kill me with?” she asked.

“My teeth,” he said, and it seemed just as honest as the answer before.

“Are you even _listening_ to me?” Hyazinthe said. “You stole my dress! How can I -”

“I’m not listening to you,” Veilchen said, “because there’s nothing you can say that will make me care about you.”

Her twin gasped. “After everything I do for you! Everything I’m going to do for you! So you can grow old and be a spinster taking care of that weak old man and a bunch of cattle!”

“I’ve learned a lot about myself through the last day,” Veilchen said aloud. “I learned that I am more like you than I had realized. Neither of us is good. Neither of us likes chores. And neither of us need champagne to be cruel.” Her fingers slipped into Sidurgu’s suit jacket, catching the hilt of the dagger where it hung at his waist and drawing it free.

“You forget who you’re talking to, Hyazinthe.” She turned to face her twin, dagger in hand, and Hyazinthe took a step back. “I’m the one who handled churning the butter every afternoon. It was onerous work, but it made me strong. I’m the one who chased after all the wayward calves. It was aggravating work, but it made me fast. I’m the one that slaughters the cattle when they grow too old, too cumbersome, and when you decide you want to have steak for dinner.”

Hyazinthe began to scream, but Veilchen was quick with her free hand and caught her by the throat, silencing her cries with a crushing grip. “I have killed so many cows, all without feeling a thing. What’s one more?” 

Veilchen raised the dagger as Hyazinthe thrashed, but Sidurgu’s fingers wrapped around her wrist. She saw wisps of winter white in the corner of her eye, and felt his head come to rest on her shoulder so he could murmur in her ear. 

“Like this, my Sumire,” he purred. His long fingers adjusted her grip on the knife, and he lowered her arm to her waist. “Overhead, you are more likely to hit her skull or ribcage. From down here, there are no bones to block your blow, and there are many vital organs.”

Her sister gave another wriggle, and Veilchen grunted with the strain of holding her. But there was Sidurgu again, stepping around them both to hoist Hyazinthe up himself, one hand pressed firmly over her mouth. “I’ve got her, Sumire,” he murmured. 

“You really aren’t bothered by the idea that I’m about to kill her?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

“My Nhaama,” he chuckled, “Your bloodlust is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Hmmm,” she said, and shoved the dagger into her sister’s stomach, through the pretty dress she’d been wearing just last night.

Veilchen kept stabbing, over and over, until the light left Hyazinthe’s eyes. Sidurgu stared at her, his eyes burning with some strange emotion she didn’t recognize. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, dropping her twin’s body to the ground and stepped over it. He lifted Veilchen’s blood stained hands, and ran his fingers over the callouses. “You’re my Nhaama.” He leaned close and licked the blood from her cheek. “Is there anything else you want to do in this little valley before we leave? Anyone else you want to kill?”

“What happens when we leave?” she asked, leaning into the way he kissed her neck, sharp and cold then soothing, pulling her apart like lacing on a corset.

“I fuck you, I kill you, and then I make you like me,” he groaned. “You will roam the night, you will be my Sumire, you will kill and feed as you see fit, and you will scream your anger and your bliss to the heavens every night for the rest of eternity.” He licked the blood off of her palms. “I’m going to take care of the body. Go back to your home, and pack anything you want to take with you, then meet me on the Marienbrücke.”

Veilchen watched him. “Like you?”

“Like me,” he whispered, and she saw his teeth lengthen before her eyes and he bit her palm, just around her callouses, licking up the blood that pooled around his fangs.

 _”Blutsauger!”_ she gasped. 

He straightened. “We prefer not to use that word,” Sidurgu replied. “Will you meet me on the bridge, Sumire, knowing what awaits? Knowing that you will embrace the dark urges within you and change the world to fit your desires?”

She stared at her sister’s body for a long, quiet moment. “I will meet you on the Marienbrücke.”

* * *

Veilchen pushed open the door to her father’s home - it hadn’t really been hers, not since the vampire had kissed her by the lake the night before - and slipped up the stairs. 

“Hyazinthe?” Papa’s voice called nervously from the kitchen. “Veilchen?”

She said nothing, dropping the bloodstained green gown on the floor of her room as she began dressing in better clothes for winter - wool stockings, black boots, thick cotton shift, corset, petticoats, kirtle, partlet, kerchief, hat, and her thick cloak back over her shoulders. She threw a few more serviceable pieces of clothing in her basket - she had no idea what life as a _blutsauger_ would require of her, but she would be as prepared as possible.

“Veilchen?” She turned to find her father standing just inside her bedroom, starring in horror at the dress on the floor. “Veilchen, where is Hyazinthe?”

She shrugged. “Wherever is most convenient to dispose of her, I’m sure.” She slid Sidurgu’s dagger between her breasts into her corset.

“Whose blood is that?” he mumbled, his hands going to his face in shock and confusion. “Veilchen, what have you done?”

“Just slaughtered a useless cow,” she hissed. “Go back to bed, Papa.” 

He scurried down the stairs toward the kitchen, and Veilchen went into Hyazinthe’s room. She picked a few more pretty dresses, some nice slippers, and added them to her basket, along with the entirety of the jewelry chest before standing in the middle of the room and staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror for a long time.

“Is this who I am now?” she asked the silence as her mind came back to her. No one answered her, but in the reflection, she could see a light snow begin to fall. If she was going to make it to the Marienbrücke before it became impassable, she’d have to go now.

She walked down the stairs, mentally bidding her life good-bye. No matter what happened after this, it would all change irrevocably when she walked out the door. In truth, it had the moment she’d taken Hyazinthe’s dress last night. But there was still a chance for her to be Veilchen of Schwangau. She would be Veilchen the Murderess, but…

She remembered Sidurgu’s face, the sharp bite of his teeth in her palm, in her neck. The way he had delighted in every action that freed her from the ties that bound her far tighter than she realized. No. She would be Sumire now. Sumire the _Blutsauger._

Every inch of her burned with determination as she opened the door to the night air. She heard her father before she saw him.

“She told me she killed her sister! I… I can’t… she is my daughter, but something has turned her to sin,” he said, and Sumire’s instincts told her to run. She did, as silent as she could, and made it to the end of the lane before the torch-wielding crowd, led by her father, spotted her. 

“Veilchen!” he cried, and the mob roared behind him. Giving up on stealth, she bolted for the meadow, hopping the fence and racing across it as fast as she could. They came after her, and she could feel the reverberation of hooves in the ground beneath her feet. Her eyes darted towards the paths that led up into the mountains, toward the Marienbrücke. She could take the easy path, it was quicker, but it would also allow horses. The other, more treacherous path was too narrow and rocky, but she’d run the risk of slipping if it was too wet.

 _Better death than being caught,_ the strange strength seemed to whisper, and she cut hard to the right, dropping her basket to gain an edge. The wind stung her cheeks red and pulled the hat from her head, but she would not risk going after, letting her hair streak behind her from her kerchief as she hopped the second fence and shot along the second path.

The horsemen wheeled toward the left hand path, shouting to the men still following on foot, but she had the advantage. The Marienbrücke couldn’t support horses - it was an old bridge, made of wood, and narrow. If she could reach the bridge, they’d have to come at her two at a time at most - and they didn’t know she was armed.

She tried not to think about the fact that she was trusting that her Sidurgu - _when had he become ‘her’ anything?_ \- would either already be there, or come for her. She was trusting he could get her out of this. She was trusting everything a _blutsauger_ had said to her. Maybe she had gone mad.

When Sumire reached the top of the path the snow was falling heavily, quickly coating the stones and the wood of the bridge. She darted onto it, walking out to the middle, and waited.

“Miss Veilchen,” an unknown man’s voice called from the left path, and she saw a figure standing by a horse with a torch. “Miss Veilchen, you need to come with us now.”

From the right, she heard her father. “Veilchen, please. You brought this on yourself.” His footsteps shook the old boards of the bridge, rattling up through her legs. 

“Don’t come any closer,” she said, “or I will kill you.”

“Veilchen…” his voice sounded pained, but she pulled the dagger out of her corset all the same, gripping it the way her Sidurgu had shown her. She could feel the ghost of his fingers on her hand, pressing just so, until she was holding it right, down by her side, ready to stab.

“Leave her,” the man by the horse called. “A blizzard is rolling in. We’ll wait her out.”

As if merely waiting for his command, the snow thickened into a blizzard, and she was lost in the endless white.

* * *

Sidurgu slipped back into Hohenschwangau Castle and started towards his rooms. To his surprise, he saw King Maximillian, Prince Ludwig, and Wagner all out on the balcony, despite the snow.

“Damn,” Wagner muttered. “Can’t see anything anymore.”

“Your Majesty,” Sidurgu said by way of greeting, bowing first to the king, then a “Your Highness,” for the prince. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

Maximillian nodded absently in recognition of the greeting. “A wire came up from the village. A young woman apparently murdered her sister, and the townsfolk have her cornered on the Marienbrücke. The blizzard will kill her, so they’re waiting her out.”

“Did she confess?” he asked quietly.

“According to her father, but it’s no matter. We prefer to stay out of village affairs,” Ludwig added. “Most of the servants are from Schwangau, and it would not do to irritate them with interference.”

Sidurgu swallowed and made eye contact with Wagner. The other man raised an eyebrow. “Well, Sidurgu?” he asked. He could hear other voices in that question, other people asking him the same. He had promised to meet her on the Marienbrücke.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled, and backed into the castle before bolting to his rooms. Time to prove himself worthy of his Nhaama.

* * *

Time seemed suspended in the endless white, ghosts and shadows from her empty life seemed to whisper to her on the wind. She had long since stopped feeling the cold, stopped shivering, stopped waiting for Sidurgu. The cold would kill her, and soon. She could see faint glows in the distance where the men on either side of the bridge had set up fires to keep themselves warm, but she dared not approach. 

Her fingers were blue, and she could only imagine which corpse-like shade her own lips had taken as she waited. She knew it was foolish - Sidurgu wouldn’t come for her - but then what was that noise?

She turned toward the left, and the glow remained, but she heard cries, and the sound of swords being drawn. A man screamed, then another, and then there was silence. 

Sumire heard voices behind her, from the right, but her eyes were fixed on the whirling snow, coalescing together into Sidurgu’s pale figure coming toward her out of the blinding white. He did not wear the suit of last night and earlier this evening, but looked every inch the Mongolian warlord he claimed to be. The snow stirred his pale hair, and the fur on the strange animal’s pelt he pulled off his shoulder and wrapped around her. Blood was splattered across his bare chest, but he did not seem to feel the cold like she did.

He smiled affectionately as he shifted the pelt so it covered more of her slim shoulders, but his eyes went hard and feral the moment she felt other footsteps shaking the Marienbrücke. “Seems I am nowhere near done with my killing tonight, Veilchen,” he said.

“Sumire,” she corrected.

Sidurgu grinned widely, showing his fangs were already slick with blood, and interposed himself between her and the right side of the bridge. A moment later the village men came out of the white, but he was ready, a zweihander already in his grip, moving like a breath of wind through the falling snow and the men before him. His every action was devastatingly precise, careful not to get so much as a drop of blood on her even as he revelled in killing the others.

“Veilchen?” Her father’s voice was the last, trembling anxiously as he approached them on the bridge. 

Sidurgu turned his sword preparing another strike, but froze as she said, “Papa.” He immediately sheathed his sword on his back and bowed as her father approached.

“Veilchen…” Her father glanced between them anxiously. “Who is this man?”

“My name is Sidurgu of the Orl.” To Sumire’s surprise, his voice was anxious. “I have come to claim your daughter, Veilchen, as my Nhaama and make her my wife.”

“What?” Her father was aghast. “She can’t marry you! She can’t marry anyone! She murdered her sister.”

“Yes,” Sidurgu agreed. “It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Can we have your blessing?”

“N-no!” he cried out, and tears were freezing on his cheeks. “Veilchen, this man is the devil! What has happened to you? What have you done?”

Sumire glanced to Sidurgu and saw distress on his face. “Sidurgu,” she said. “Do you require my father’s blessing to marry me?”

“Yes,” he said stubbornly.

She turned his dagger in her hand. “Do you still require his blessing if he’s dead?”

The _blutsauger’s_ eyes widened, and he grinned wickedly. “No.”

“Veilchen…” her father began backing away, and she took one last, deep breath, inhaling the scent of blood and the man who had kept his promises for a moment before she dropped the fur to the ground and launched herself at her father.

His hot blood warmed her more than anything else had that night, but she found as she stood over his corpse, her last kirtle ruined, she couldn’t stop shaking. 

“Sumire,” Sidurgu whispered, and she felt the fur go back over her shoulders, and he lifted her in his arms. “Rest. I will keep you safe.”

* * *

When she woke, the windows were shuttered tight against the cold, and a fire roared beneath a mantle in the corner. She was in the most beautiful bedroom she’d seen in her life, jewel-toned bed hangings embroidered with gold, fine silk sheets, and rich, carved wood for the furniture.

Beside her in the bed, Sidurgu slept, his pale form a shock against the darker bedclothes. She sat up, and his eyes flew open, locking onto hers. “How do you feel?” He asked as he sat up, grabbing her hands and examining them. “Good, no frostbite.”

“I feel strange,” Sumire whispered into the space between them. “I feel like I was dreaming, but I don’t remember what.”

“You were very nearly dead from the cold,” he said. “It is my fault. I should have gotten to you sooner.”

“It was my own fault. It’s not like you wouldn’t have saved me from the village,” she scoffed. “I was too angry to see reason.”

“You are not angry now?”

“Not really,” she murmured. “Just…” She stared into the fireplace. “What happens now?”

Sidurgu glanced at the mantle. “It’s about supper time. But you shouldn’t eat. It’ll make you sick.”

“Why?”

“We can’t digest it. Liquids are fine, I’ve gotten away with broth soups when I’ve had to fake being mortal, but food will just make you vomit it back up,” he said matter of factly. “And I’m planning to turn you as soon as I’ve fucked you.”

Her laughter was slightly shrill. “You just have to fuck me first?”

“Yes,” he said, putting an arm around her. “You are a virgin, and if I turn you first, then every night will be like your first time.”

Her cheeks colored. “How do you know?”

“Know what?” 

“That I’m a virgin,” she said, shyly.

His lips brushed across her cheekbone. “It’s in the way you walk. I suspected the first night, but seeing you with your sister, it became obvious.” He slid his arm around her back, and she realized she was nude. “How would you like it?” 

“You act as though intercourse is a foregone conclusion,” she argued.

“Isn’t it?” Sidurgu smirked. “You killed your father for refusing to bless our marriage. You killed your sister when she pretended to be you to get between us. You’re quite possessive for someone who doesn’t want to be broken.”

“You intend to break me?” Her heart twisted in her chest at his lazy grin.

“Just this once. I might again if you ask nicely. But I will have you before I change you.” His hand around her back pulled her down to his lips. “Just lie back and let me indulge. I promise I will make you feel good.”

Some small part of her wanted to fight, but it was quickly silenced by all the parts that had spent so long unloved. She didn’t resist as he pushed her back against the bed and nudged his way between her legs.

Her instincts seemed to know what to do and she let her hands slide up over his back, but he caught her wrists in one long-fingered hand and pinned her back down. “No,” he whispered to the skin of her neck. “You lie still. I so rarely get to conquer, let me take you properly, my Sumire.”

It was hard to argue, especially when his fingers slid back down her arms to her breasts, brushing over them in ways she’d never known she wanted. He spoke to her again, in a language she didn’t speak, but didn’t seem to wait for her answers.

Sidurgu hooked his hands behind her knees and pushed her legs apart as he leaned down and licked her chest. A moment later his fangs were in her breast and she screamed, only realizing a moment later he had paired the bite with his first thrust into her, and the sharper pain of his teeth had masked the initial pain she had been told would come. He nuzzled at her breasts now, murmuring in his strange language, and everywhere his tongue passed the punctures vanished, leaving her skin smooth and unblemished.

“What are you doing, Sidurgu?” She gasped. It felt like he was splitting her apart, but then he pulled back and she just felt _empty_ where he had been.

“Call me ‘Sid,’” he purred into her throat as he thrust back in. “And I’m doing exactly what I said I would - I’m fucking you.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but another deep thrust knocked the breath from her lungs and she just gasped, and he laughed, speaking his own tongue again as he found his rhythm. He had one hand braced on the headboard above her, and his knees spread wide between her legs for balance. With every thrust she could see the muscles in his arm coil against the headboard before springing back as he left her wanting.

As he moved, his head dropped to her neck, and he locked his teeth around her collarbone, tearing open her skin. He drank the blood that came from her with obscene slurping noises as he forsook depth for speed and pounded her into the feather bed that was quickly being stained red from her wound.

“Sid,” she groaned, “Don’t be _greedy._ ”

“You’re mine to be greedy _with,”_ Sid argued, but he licked the wound closed and settled his Sumire back against the bed. He leaned more heavily on the arm against the headboard and slid his other hand between them, touching the tiny nub she liked to pretend didn’t exist when she was a good and modest girl.

Soon her body was moving of its own accord, despite his earlier instruction to lie still, but he didn’t seem to mind. He mumbled unrecognizable words as he started going deep again, and she moaned uncontrollably, her hips bucking wantonly against him while her fingers twisted in the sheets. 

Sumire cried out as his fingers brushed the perfect spot, and pleasure burst from that place throughout her body. Her legs tried to clamp together and push him away, but he was so deep - so deep she felt her body tense every time he hilted - that she only managed to keep him in as she rode the climax out to its end.

For his part, Sid’s thrusts became wildly erratic as soon as she came, and it was only a few moments later - while she was still falling from heaven - that she felt him spill something wet and thick inside her body. He collapsed against her chest, murmuring still, but his hands stroked her body worshipfully, and his whispers could easily be mistaken for a prayer.

They lay like that, tangled up together and exploring with gentle touches, until her heart returned to its normal pace.

“Veilchen,” he whispered.

“I told you, _’Sumire,’”_ she grumbled.

He shook his head. “This is something Veilchen needs to hear.”

She blinked at him, but nodded.

“You are my Nhaama. I know you don’t know what that means right now, but I promise I will explain everything once I have turned you. But this is a leap of faith for you. You must trust me that I am doing the best thing for both of us.” His fingers brushed against her face. “I love you.”

“You barely know me,” she argued.

“I know that I will not live in this world without you. I know that I will dog your steps until the day you die, and I will follow you soon after. I know that I will give you anything you desire, if only you consent to walk beside me until the end. I know that I would forgive you any crime, if only you consent to give yourself to me completely,” he smiled. “Is that not love?”

“It’s close enough for me,” she whispered. “Go ahead then, kill me.”

Sid gave a single short nod of his own, and pushed her back onto her back. “My apologies, Sumire, but I promise - this is the last thing I do to you that will hurt.”

“What?” Her breath hitched in her throat.

“We are of Nabriales’s line. He has many gifts, but the pain of the change is the price we pay. I can but promise it will be over soon.” He dragged his teeth over the skin of her neck, then clawed open the palm of his hand, letting thick, black blood drip out and into her mouth. “Drink it.”

With an anxious nod, Sumire did as she was bid.

The pain was intense and immediate and something Sid’s fangs burying themselves in her throat could do nothing to mitigate. He clamped his hand firmly down over her mouth to stifle her screams and ensure that every drop he lost made it into her mouth. She could feel the intense, unbelievable pain burning its way through her body, turning her heart into an uncontrollable drum, shaking her body with it’s erratic beat. The pain came on, harder and faster until the fire was in every inch of her body and all at once she seized - every muscle in her body feeling like they locked up at once - and her heart stopped.

It never started again.

A wave of relief came over her, and she stared in wonder as everything seemed to come into focus for the first time in her life. She could see every fleck of dust in the air, catching the flickering firelight and swirling like dancers above her head. She still couldn’t move, but she could feel Sid’s fingers still stroking her hip while he lay with his teeth in her neck - not sucking anymore, just there. 

Sumire blinked first, and then she felt all of her limbs lighten at once. Sid released her neck and sat up, tugging one of her calloused hands with his until she was sitting up facing him. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Angry,” she said.

Sid smirked. _”Perfect.”_


End file.
